


Revedere

by Ostodvandi



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amnesia, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anterograde Amnesia, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Trans Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22971643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ostodvandi/pseuds/Ostodvandi
Summary: Felix wakes up every morning without a single memory of what has happened in the last three years. Sylvain is always there to remind him.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 24
Kudos: 166





	Revedere

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The depiction of anterograde amnesia may not be accurate to the actual experience of suffering from said type of amnesia. I am however intending to be as respectful as possible towards people that suffer from this situation and if there is any criticism in that respect I will gladly take it.
> 
> That said, beware of some heavy angst, as one usually does when reading most of what I write. I hope it leaves a nice warm feeling in your chest at the end if nothing else! There are some mentions of Dimitri/Claude and Ingrid/Dorothea.

Felix wakes up to the familiar scenery of his and Sylvain's apartment: the thick winter blankets, the nightstand with his lamp and photos on it - though he doesn't remember putting those there. By the lamp, there's his phone, and under it, a small black book. By its side, a note, and only then he notices the weight of something at his feet.

A small ball of calico fur is curled up there, its body inflating and deflating as it breathes. Somehow, it doesn't feel like a strange vision, even if he doesn't know what a cat is doing there, in their house. Did Sylvain adopt a cat? And where the hell is he? As far as he remembers, he was on his way back home from visiting his father.

He grabs the note from under the lamp, and opens it, soon noticing this is Sylvain's handwriting.

_ Good morning, Fefe! _

_ If you're reading this I suppose it means you woke up and I wasn't there. Sorry! But I'll be back. You have my schedule behind the kitchen door. The cats' names are Smudge and Fígaro. Please read the start of your diary, ok?  _

_ I love you, _

_ Sylvain. _

Felix frowns, stroking the parts where the note has been bent. This is an old note. But Felix hasn't kept a diary in his whole life, so what does that mean?

Besides the cat, the note, the book and some photos he doesn't remember taking, this is just their usual bedroom in their rented apartment. So perhaps this is an elaborate, unfunny joke on Sylvain's part. Felix yawns and grabs his phone, checking for messages–

_ 02/08/2020 _

* * *

_ 'Why am I here…?' _

_ When Felix asks that again, it feels like something is gripping at his heart, so hard it threatens to squash it into nothing. It's the fifth day in a row that Sylvain answers, 'You had an accident, Fe.' _

_ But everything was supposed to be fine. Felix is alive, he doesn't look pale and half dead anymore, and they said the memory loss would most likely disappear, but it hasn’t. Felix still asks and still looks around like a lost, frightened child. Sylvain still feels the same restlessness. Because if the doctor's implications are true, then… _

_ What will become of Felix? And can Sylvain do anything about it? _

* * *

His phone must be malfunctioning, he decides. There's no way they're in 2020 - it was 2017 yesterday. He stretches and leaves the note under the lamp. It's 11am and he hasn't eaten anything, so a breakfast is in order, and so he gets up, swiftly followed by the calico cat that he assumes to be Smudge. 

The hallway looks the same, and different at the same time. Eerie. Nevertheless, Felix walks down the hallway until he arrives at the kitchen, and while his bowl of milk warms up in the microwave, he checks the back of the door, where, indeed, Sylvain's schedule is. Today's Saturday, which means he works until 1pm, but yesterday was Sunday, because that's when he visits his father. Sylvain must have gotten the day wrong.

He checks the calendar hanging from the wall of the kitchen, and, oddly enough, it shows the same date on Felix's phone. He grabs the remote and turns the TV on, trying to not freak out as he pours his cereal on the milk.

The news is on, and they also talk about the events of 2020, with a host he doesn't remember seeing before, and Felix makes an effort to not drop his bowl of cereal, instead gently leaving it on the counter.

Smudge meows as Felix rushes back to their room, suddenly remembering what the note said.

* * *

_ 'This one.' _

_ Felix has picked a small, black book, and it's just like him to choose that one over the multicoloured options at the store.  _

_ 'That does look like a diary, sort of,' Sylvain admits, and his hand rubs Felix's back. 'And as long as you like it, it's ok.' _

_ 'I don't know if I  _ like _ it,' he murmurs. 'It's just the most practical option.' _

_ Sylvain hums. 'Right. Why the sad look, though?' _

_ Felix sounds exasperated when he sighs, and Sylvain guesses he was supposed to know the answer already. 'Will this really be of any use? I'm not going to remember anything just by putting some stupid ink on paper.' _

_ 'I don't think it's about remembering, but… recording. The stuff that happens, how it feels, and all that. So it doesn't disappear.' _

* * *

The black book does turn out to be a diary, if the white sticker with "diary" written on it is anything to go by. When Felix opens it, he's received with his own handwriting in blue ink and words he doesn't remember ever writing.

_So it's May 2nd of 2017. I don't know how far in the future_ (there's a _you_ crossed out, and Felix frowns) _I will be reading this. This is weird as fuck, but whatever. On the 11th of March of 2017,_ you _I had an accident while coming back from visiting my old man. There was a drunk bastard on the road, and there was a crash. I can't remember it, but it's what everyone says. The fucking guy died._

There is a whole line not only crossed out, but covered in thick lines of ink, like someone furiously scribbled over it to cover whatever that was under.

_ I can't remember anything, actually. Anterograde amnesia or some shit like that. Irreversible, they say. Apparently my stupid brain can't store memories from one day to the other anymore. Sylvain has convinced me to write this damn thing, but I don't think it'll work. It's kinda stupid really. But that's how it is, I guess. I hate it. _

Another cat meows, and when Felix turns around, it's a massive grey cat, Fígaro most likely. Felix's heart is beating in his chest like it's about to burst through his ribs. Perhaps in an attempt to calm him down, Fígaro rubs himself on Felix's legs, and he reciprocates with a small stroke along the back of the animal.

On Sylvain's nightstand, there's a photo of them, with Rodrigue, Dimitri and Annette as well, all posing in front of a hospital. He looks pale and serious, while his friends smile. Those smiles are genuine, but small, and Felix guesses it was Ingrid taking the photo. Sylvain is holding him by the shoulders, tightly as if scared he will collapse at any moment.

Felix closes the diary, and brings it with him to the kitchen, where his now cold bowl of cereal awaits. He leaves it on the table and sits down, making circles in the milk with his spoon, the book on his other hand, and the news playing in the background. A note on the door to the balcony that Felix didn't focus on before reads "the beasts have been fed", and Felix would smile if it weren't for the hurricane of thoughts in his mind. It's like he's in the eye of said hurricane, a strange calm despite the words he's read, like his mind doesn't know where to start from.

He opens the diary to the last page written on, the one belonging to yesterday.

_ 02/07/2020 _

_ Today has been normal but sort of lonely until Sylvain came back from work. We went to therapy together after he came to pick me up, and the therapist (his name is Seteth) said we were advancing better than he expected, and that he was proud of us. As if we were thirteen year olds, or something... After that, Sylvain showed me new music he enjoys. I've never liked dancing music that much, but he was smiling the whole time as we listened to it. His smile, when sincere, is gorgeous. I never tire of seeing it. But I can't tell him that, or his ego will get way too inflated.  _

_ Fígaro and Smudge came to receive us at the door. They do this every day, Sylvain has told me. They're good cats. I suggested we go to the cinema next week. It's been a pretty decent day.  _

A decent day, huh.

He leans back on the chair, and Smudge jumps on his lap, making herself at home there and turning into the ball of fur Felix saw this morning. He strokes her, and she purrs, closing her eyes.

He grabs a pen, and writes on the next page.

_ 02/08/2020 _

_ Smudge fell asleep on my lap. She likes me, I think. _

* * *

_ 'May I speak solely with Sylvain?' _

_ Sylvain watches Felix's expression darken, and his hands ball into fists, and it looks like he's going to go into another fit of frustration. But he doesn't; he nods and stands up, walking out of the room, leaving just Seteth and Sylvain inside. _

_ 'What is it?' Sylvain murmurs. _

_ 'Why are you by his side?' _

_ The serenity, the casual tone in which he says that is infuriating. 'I think that's obvious. Because I love him.' _

_ 'I apologize for my harsh tone,' Seteth nods, and his voice doesn't waver. Too used to highly emotional people, Sylvain supposes. 'But be sincere with me. Have you ever thought about breaking up with Felix after the accident?' _

_ 'I–' Sylvain looks down at his own shaky hands. 'I would never.' _

_ 'If you did, there is nothing inherently wrong with that. I'm talking about thoughts, not actual intentions. The accident and its aftermath were difficult for both of you.' _

_ '...They were. I never intended to… Do it. I couldn't possibly leave him when he needs me.' _

_ 'It's normal to think about escaping when a situation overwhelms you.' Seteth sighs, like he's talking from experience. 'Tell me, Sylvain, do you still have those thoughts?' _

_ '...Sometimes,' he admits, and his voice threatens to break like glass smashed against the ground. 'Sometimes it feels like he will never get better. That it will… Always be like this. Him getting angry and snapping at the same things, over and over. Felix is a very emotional person, even if he doesn't show it. There's always a lot going on in his head, and I thought I'd always understand him, but his brother died, and he changed. And when we were starting to understand each other again, this…' _

_ Seteth nods, and patiently waits until Sylvain gives up with a heavy sigh. 'Have you thought about keeping a diary as well?' _

_ '...No. But… that might help him feel better about it.' _

_ 'Not only that,' Seteth smiles, a fatherly sort of smile that makes Sylvain feel a little safer. 'I want you to see by yourself if there is an improvement or not. And then we can discuss it here.' _

_ 'That… does sound like a good idea.' _

* * *

Felix finishes his breakfast an hour later, too focused on the purring cat on his lap to even pay attention to his stomach. He's also distracted by the news, wondering just how many major things have happened in the world since his accident that he knows nothing about. The host is new, as are the products shown in many of the advertisements, and Felix wonders just how many times he's watched these like it's the first time.

The thought makes him uneasy, so he eventually does get up, when Smudge allows him to. It's not that bad to have your movement decided by the whims of an animal, he decides, if said animal is a calico cat.

Perhaps he should stay in the living room and watch a show or something. Not like he will remember what happened there next week. Who would've said a good side to this… situation would be that spoilers are now meaningless.

On the way to the living room, there is another room, positioned in front of their bathroom. It's not as wide as Felix and Sylvain's, and Felix peeks into it, not knowing what to expect. He remembers why they picked an apartment with an extra room.

* * *

_ 'Well, I guess it's time to start thinking about names.' _

_ Felix frowns and looks up from his cup of coffee. The radio in the cafeteria plays K-pop, and Sylvain recognizes the tune vaguely from something Hilda sent him. 'Names for what?' _

_ 'Our kid, of course,' Sylvain mentions jokingly, taking a sip of his own coffee. 'I mean, they're not even on the way yet, but I think it's cute to–' _

_ Felix hits the table with his fist, startling Sylvain into silence. 'What the fuck are you talking about?' _

_ Sylvain blinks, leaving the cup of coffee on the saucer slowly. Felix looks angry, brows furrowed, lips pressed together, eyes looking down at the dark brown liquid. 'Felix…' _

_ 'There's no child to be had, Sylvain.' Felix's tone rises in volume and anger, and some eyes turn to look at them in the cafeteria. Not that Sylvain is bothered by that specifically. 'Would you really do that to a kid? Have a father that doesn't remember they fucking exist every morning? Have me wake up every fucking day feeling disgusting for months?' He spits those last words, and Sylvain flinches. 'And if we adopt it's even crueler. It's like being abandoned every fucking day.' _

_ Sylvain sighs, laying back on his chair. '...You have a point. I didn't think that through too much. I was just… excited, I guess.' Excited about having a family with Felix, with his husband and the person he had been in love with for so long.  _

_ It was a stupid idea all along. He wouldn't make a good father anyway, probably. When he looks at Felix's eyes, they're watery, so he extends a hand to hold his. _

_ 'Let's forget about that, then. Sorry for bringing it up.' _

_ They finish their coffees, while Sylvain goes on about songs Hilda has sent him, the latest hits on pop music. Felix listens silently, making a couple of comments there and there, like something is blocking his throat, even if his eyes aren't watery anymore. Felix pays for their meal, and they walk out of the cafeteria, hand in hand. _

_ They've barely walked more than a few steps when Sylvain murmurs, 'Felix, can I hug you?' _

_ Felix hums, and soon enough Sylvain's arms are around him, holding him so tightly it hurts a little.  _

_ 'I–' Felix breathes, and Sylvain waits, letting him hide his face in his shoulder, muffle his voice against it so nobody else in this town can hear him. 'I'm sorry. For before.' _

* * *

Felix takes a look inside the boxes: There are many things that are familiar in there, and that gives him a feeling of safety, of solace, knowing that there is a part of the world he still knows and isn't completely lost to his mind. Photos that they haven't placed of Felix's family and their friends are stacked up in one of them. Judging by the only decoration on the walls, an old clock that Felix remembers was in Sylvain's family house (before Sylvain pretty much stole it from his parents), it's going to take another hour and a half for Sylvain to come back home, so it's not like there isn't time to waste just looking at these things.

There's another box, filled with old books, and some of them are even books from when they were still finishing college. Why he and Sylvain thought it proper to keep these old things, Felix doesn't know, but it makes him nostalgic to see them. Back then, things weren't exactly simple, what with them just starting their relationship and all the misunderstandings and trouble that came with it. 

Still, Felix wouldn't change it for anything.

Fígaro meows, sitting on Felix's lap while he browses through another box, and it gets a smile out of him when he runs his hand over the animal's fur and Fígaro purrs.

Time goes by with the tick of the clock on the wall, and Felix takes things out of boxes, and puts them back inside. Keeping things clean and organised is a vital skill if you want to live with Sylvain, and that only makes Felix wonder why they haven't cleaned all this up yet.

Maybe it's some sort of placeholder, or a way to cling to when they were still moving in, planning their wedding. And right as those thoughts cross his head, Felix opens a box that contains clothes, but not just any clothes. There's a perfectly folded red and black suit inside, and it smells like it's been there for a while. Under it, there's a smaller one, in blue and grey.

Felix huffs: the colours couldn't be more fitting, more typical of them. But then it dawns on him, and he looks at the engagement ring on his finger.

* * *

_ 'The red and black one looks nice.' Dimitri smiles and adjusts the jacket properly. 'I've always wanted to do that,' his friend says, laughing shortly before pulling him closer, into a tight hug.  _

_ 'Hey, Dima, you're– kind of crushing me–' His friend loosens the grip a little, but not enough for Sylvain to escape the hug. It doesn't matter, because he hugs back, rubbing his friend's back. 'You're excited, huh?' _

_ 'Everyone is, Sylvain,' Dimitri assures him, voice filled with affection. 'Everyone.' _

_ Sylvain sighs, burying his face on Dimitri's shoulder. It is happening after all, isn't it? After a year of delay, of insecurities and fear and hopelessness, they are getting married. He and Felix will finally grab the future that was almost taken from them. Sylvain is still terrified of Felix's memory, of how this might turn out, all the possible ways this could go terribly wrong. So scared of doing the wrong thing. _

_ But he still wants to try. He wants to have the wedding they dreamed of, and Felix wants it as well. _

_ 'What if we go see how Felix is doing?' Dimitri suggests, walking out of the changing room. Felix is in the changing room the furthest from Sylvain's, to keep the surprise for both of them.  _

_ '...S-Sure.' Dimitri laughs at him, covering his mouth with his hand like the polite kid he’s always been. 'Hey, I am ready!' _

_ 'Of course, Sylvain. I've never doubted it, I swear.' _

_ Sylvain huffs, patting Dimitri's back, and his friend walks in front of him, reaching the other door before Sylvain does, and knocks on the door. 'Hello? Can we enter?' _

_ Sylvain hears Annette's voice even from this far away and with a door in between. 'Just a moment! Please!' _

_ 'Alright,' Dimitri says, turning around to rest his back on the door. Sylvain does the same on a nearby wall, and thus they wait, attentive to the sounds that come from inside the room, like Annette and Felix's muffled voices and the sound of something breaking. For a moment Sylvain panics, expecting Felix to storm off the room or worse, until he hears Annette whine. She probably was the one to drop… whatever it is that fell. _

_ 'We're ready!' Annette announces shortly after, and Sylvain stands up straight, more nervous than he'd dare to admit. Dimitri stares at him, a wide smile on his face, seeing right through Sylvain's fake confidence for once.  _

_ 'It's going to be ok,' he assures him, and Sylvain knows it's not only about the wedding. It's about everything that is going to come after that. _

_ When Annette opens the door, Felix is standing there, arms crossed over his chest, lips pressed into a straight line. The blue and grey suit fits him so ridiculously well, the side ponytail Annette has styled his hair into is gorgeous, and Sylvain's heart is about to burst at the sight. _

_ He could cry. After all that's happened, after all that it’s taken to get to this point, and with all that lies ahead, he could burst into tears right now, holding Felix as tightly as he could. _

_ But now isn't the time for that. He can cry at the altar. _

_ 'Stop staring at me.' Felix frowns. _

_ 'Goddamn, Felix,' he gets closer, close enough for his arms to go around Felix's waist. 'If we weren't getting married already, I'd propose to you.' _

_ 'You're being obnoxious, it's just a wedding suit.' _

_ 'Would you accept again if I did?' _

_ Felix sighs, and pretends to ponder it carefully. '...Yes. I would.' _

* * *

The sound of the key opening the lock on the main door happens exactly when Felix predicted it would, and Smudge and Fígaro immediately get up from their preferred napping spaces to run to the door and sit there, eager to welcome Sylvain home. Felix supposes he could do the same, so he packs the stuff back into the boxes, and stretches a little before walking out of the door.

'Oooh my sweet little babies! Have you missed me? You have!' Sylvain's voice is audible from the inside of the room, and hearing it makes Felix smile. 'Now, where is he… Felix?'

'Right here,' he answers, cleaning a little bit of dust off his pajama's sleeve. 

Sylvain sighs in relief – a strange detail that Felix doesn't dwell on – and hugs him, the gesture as tight and loving as all of Sylvain's hugs for Felix are. When he loosens it, it's just for the sake of kissing Felix, first on the lips, and then on the rest of his face. Felix's eyes are closed, and his cheeks are furiously red, but this doesn't feel so bad. 'You look gorgeous today, babe.'

'Do you say that everyday?'

'Only when you look gorgeous. Which so happens to be…' he winks, and Felix already knows what's coming, because he's been saying this since they started dating. '...every day.'

'Yeah, yeah. I'm hungry.'

'Let's get to cooking then.' A last kiss on Felix's lips, before the hug is completely broken. 'What do you feel like eating?'

Felix shrugs. 'I'm fine with whatever you want.'

'I think we have some fish in the refrigerator… Let's do that.'

Sylvain is a better cook than Felix is, but Felix still makes a pretty handy helper in the kitchen, preparing everything they will need for a fish sauté while Sylvain takes off his shoes and coat and changes into his own pajamas.

* * *

_ ‘Since when are you vegetarian?!’ _

_ Dimitri laughs awkwardly, holding a tupperware with food inside it in his hand, food that is probably way too green for Felix’s standards.  _

_ ‘Well, Claude is, so I became one too… It’s easier this way.’ _

_ ‘I wouldn’t be able to live like that,’ Ingrid says, a pouty expression on her face. Sylvain laughs.  _

_ ‘Would you become a vegetarian with me, Felix?’ he suggests, even if he already knows the answer, and the grimace on his husband’s face makes it even more evident.  _

_ ‘I’d rather rip my own intestines out.’ _

_ Sylvain cackles again, getting up to reach the meat that is already cooked in the barbeque. ‘Now, Fefe, Ing, hand over your plates.’ _

_ The light shines brightly in Ingrid and Felix’s eyes as Sylvain picks the meat for them and bathes it in spicy sauce. Meanwhile, Dimitri opens his tupperware and unwraps a fork, looking as peaceful as a veteran monk. It does Sylvain’s heart good to see him like this. _

_ Sylvain sits down with his own share of food and leaves some more to be roasted on the barbeque. ‘Wouldn’t you become vegan or vegetarian for Dorothea, Ingrid?’ _

_ ‘Huh.’ She freezes on the spot, and the gears in her brain seem to be turning as fast as they can. ‘I-I mean, we would… have to talk about it. I wouldn’t mind cooking my own meals so she doesn’t have to handle meat, but- HEY!’ _

_ ‘Fuck,’ Felix groans, dropping the stolen meat from Ingrid’s plate on his own. _

_ ‘Give that back, you scoundrel!’ _

_ ‘It’s on  _ my  _ plate now. Better luck next time.’ He sticks out his tongue, which only angers Ingrid further. _

_ ‘Oh you’re so going to die today!’ _

_ ‘C’mon, guys, it’s just meat!’ Sylvain interrupts, barely able to hold back his amusement. Dimitri is trying as well, covering his giggling with his hand. This is just like when they were children, despite how much all of them have changed. ‘Here, Ingrid, you can eat some of my stuff.’ _

* * *

Sylvain snores on the sofa, and Felix lies on top of him, browsing on his phone. There are messages from Dimitri, Ingrid, and Annette with conversations he doesn't remember having but are there nonetheless. When he opens the phone gallery, there are a hundred of photos he doesn't remember taking, but still exist: photos of holidays abroad in sunny places with their quartet of friends and selfies his friends have sent him. One of them is a photo of Dimitri's wedding with a man Felix doesn't recognize, a man around Felix's own height, with dark brown hair, light brown skin and green eyes. 

Being honest to himself, not remembering Dimitri's wedding stings. Does Ingrid have a girlfriend, even? Have Ashe and Dedue got their shit together already? He knows nothing. Nothing at all.

Felix sighs and gets up, careful to not wake Sylvain. He noticed the framed paper in the living room with a list of names and dates earlier, but only now is he looking closer at it.

january 4th - ingrid’s birthday

january 30th - smudge’s birthday

february 15th - our dating anniversary

february 20th - felix’s birthday ♡

march 23th - our wedding anniversary ♡

may 1st - glenn’s birthday

may 9th - annie’s birthday

may 27th - mercie’s birthday

june 5th - sylvain’s birthday

august 31th - dedue’s birthday

september 4th - first proposal

october 17th - ashe’s birthday

october 20th - second proposal

november 8th - fígaro’s birthday

november 19th - rodrigue’s birthday

december 20th - dimitri’s birthday

Felix huffs at the dates marked with a heart, knowing that Sylvain must have been the one to write down the list. A March wedding, huh… 

He looks back at Sylvain snoring on the sofa, now laying on his side, drooling a little into the pillow. He looks far from elegant or cute, and yet Felix smiles when he squats in front of him. 

‘Leave me some space on the sofa,’ Felix murmurs, stroking Sylvain’s hair, and Sylvain babbles something in his sleep. ‘You stupidly big wide man.’

* * *

_ Felix moans, his back arches, and his hands pull at Sylvain's hair even harder. He would say it hurts, but he's too focused on that sound, on Felix's shaky breaths when he lies boneless on the bed, his hair a beautiful mess on their pillow. _

_ 'Sylvain.' He sounds so needy, so desperate, and Sylvain is right there to answer his call, leaving a kiss on his stomach, and another one between his collarbones. _

_ 'Are you ok?' he murmurs against the curve between Felix's neck and shoulder. _

_ 'Yes. Y-Yes, I'm good.' Felix's hand goes back to Sylvain's hair, but this time to fiddle with it. Sylvain sighs; that gesture could make him fall asleep so fast if he didn't stop himself from dozing off. 'That was…good.' _

_ 'So you're impressed.' Sylvain raises an eyebrow, and laughs when his husband groans.  _

_ 'Only because I can't remember the times when you probably screwed up.' _

_ 'Don't you believe in my innate talent for–' _

_ Felix weakly slaps Sylvain’s back. 'Get off me. I want to pee.' _

_ Sylvain whines. He was expecting more time for tenderness and cuddles, but they can go back to those later. _

_ For now, he uses this time to grab his own diary, and write down some words. _

_ “After we came back from the restaurant, we had very nice sex. He’s joked about his amnesia, and not in a self-deprecating way. I think that’s good. We cuddled for a while. I hope he’s still in the mood for it when he comes back from the bathroom, because man I really want to cuddle the shit out of him right now. I love him.” _

* * *

After dinner, there is a program that - Sylvain assures him - they both enjoy, a talent program where a group of judges decide who is talented enough to… do something. From what Sylvain tells him, they get help and advertisement from the show, but Felix sees little to no point to it. Why would you go on national television just to ridicule yourself in front of some people? Stupid.

He finds himself enjoying it nonetheless, in a half-ironic, half-serious way. ‘What the fuck. That was an amazing performance. Do these motherfuckers have eyes.’

‘Yeah, I think that was deserving of a pass. But this guy is…’

‘An asshole. An idiot. An uncultured shit.’ Felix grumbles, leaning on Sylvain’s shoulder. ‘He’d probably tell Annette that she isn’t “seasoned enough” too. What the fuck. That girl wasn’t a goddamn chicken.’

“And that was our last performance of the night!” the voice of the host announces, and Felix scoffs. “Now, let’s take a look at the artists that have passed the judge’s, well, judgment!”

‘That was horrible. This is bullshit.’ 

Sylvain laughs, and pulls him into a hug, smooching his temple. ‘Yeah, but it’s fun, isn’t it? Don’t lie to me, babe.’

‘It’s sort of fun, I’ll give it that,’ Felix admits, begrudgingly. ‘But they should get better judges.’

‘I agree with you there,’ Sylvain murmurs, and they watch the winners present themselves to the public as the program ends. Once it does, Sylvain gets up from the sofa, and Fígaro takes his place immediately, laying his head on Felix’s lap. ‘I’m gonna take a shower. Be right back!’

Felix hums, watching him go. On the table between the sofa and the TV, his diary lays, and considering the several minutes of advertisements that await him, and how long Sylvain takes showering, he knows he can read something, or write down more of today’s events.

He browses through some pages, and lands on the March 23rd of two years ago. A familiar date.

_ Today we got married. _

_ There was a big banquet with all the foods we both enjoy, and then a vegetarian option for Dimitri’s husband and Annette. Somehow, Sylvain convinced me to dance a little with him to old pop songs, and I danced with Annette too. There was a cake, but it wasn’t too sugary: just enough to be enjoyable. Father was smiling through the whole thing, despite being tired, and congratulated me. I think he wanted to say something about Glenn, but he kept it to himself.  _

_ Everything was recorded, and yet I feel like there’s some kind of ghost following me. Like knowing that I won’t remember all this thing. All the feelings I had while walking to the altar and hearing Sylvain say that he does want to marry me despite, well, everything that has been going on. It won’t be the same to wake up tomorrow and realize I’m married at some point during the day. I don’t know how to escape this feeling that I’ll always be missing out on my own happiness, even if I think I’ve been happy so far with him. He’s trying his best, I know this. Everyone is. They recorded every second of it, and Sylvain is going to put it all together for us to watch whenever I want. But it still isn’t like remembering it. I want to remember it. If I have to choose one day to remember after the accident it would be this one.  _

_ I don’t want to go to sleep tonight. I don’t want to forget this day. I don’t want to let go of it. _

_ We went to the bay. He promised we would confront everything that is to come together.  _

_ I believe him. _

Felix puts the diary down, and Fígaro looks up at him, eyes wide open with curiosity. He gives the cat an affectionate stroke, and heads to the bathroom, where he can hear Sylvain showering. He knocks on the door, and then enters. ‘Sylvain.’

His head peeks out of the shower curtain. ‘Yeah? Something wrong?’

‘Can we watch the video of our wedding tonight?’

Sylvain’s mouth hangs open for a couple seconds, before he puts himself together and smiles. ‘Sure. As soon as I’m done here, we watch it. Wait just ten minutes.’

As promised, it only takes ten minutes, as opposed to his usual thirty or forty. Soon enough, he’s in the living room with a memory stick and his PC ready. Felix waits, stroking Smudge, who has found her napping spot on Felix’s lap, while Sylvain connects everything and his wallpaper - a photo of their friend quartet posing in front of a beach - pops up on the TV.

Then, the video starts playing. On it, Felix sees them wearing the suits he found in the boxes earlier, the hair that was probably stylized by Annette, Mercedes’ extremely elegant dress, Dimitri’s husband joining the wedding as well. It is a small thing, in a small place, with just enough people. Muted colors for the most part, elegant but not overbearing music, Sylvain being as inexplicably handsome as he’s always been. Their wedding cake isn’t very big, and is decorated with small figurines he and Sylvain used to collect when they were children. The dancing happens in an open place, and Dimitri records as Felix is dragged away by Sylvain to dance to a Katy Perry song. Despite his complaints, he’s smiling. Smiling more than he ever thought he could, knowing the thoughts that were surely going through his head at the moment.

Felix absorbs everything, every detail, and Sylvain stays silent most of the time, allowing him to just take it all in. There’s a knot in Felix’s throat that won’t go away easily.

He grabs his diary again, and starts writing.

_ We cooked fish sauté, and it turned out really good. After that, he took a nap and I looked at photos on my phone. We were lazing around the whole evening, and it was good. After dinner, we watched a show that was pretty entertaining, but the judges were stupid. And after that, we watched the video of our wedding. It’s still not finished as I write this, but I think I’ve seen enough to write this down. _

Felix looks up at the man by his side. Sylvain notices, and smiles at him. ‘Felix?’

‘Nothing. I just wanted to be sure of something.’

His husband blinks, but nods in acceptance. Felix writes one more sentence down.

_ Sylvain looks happy. _

* * *

_ 2 years ago _

‘I don’t want to fall asleep.’

Sylvain turns to him. His eyebrows are furrowed, his lips curled down, but that face only lasts a couple seconds before he puts himself together again, smiling instead, trying to look peaceful. ‘I know.’ It’s hard to find the words. It’s hard to think of ways to not screw up. ‘I know. But we recorded it, Fe, didn’t we? It’s not lost forever.’

‘It’s not going to be the same.’

‘I know.’ Sylvain repeats again, and the understanding warmth of his voice is unbearable.

‘Let’s go outside.’

Sylvain’s eyebrows rise then, arching up and questioning what Felix could be thinking about. ‘Alright. Where do you want to go?’

Where does he want to go? What places are there in this town that he wants to visit? What could be special enough for a night like this, but at the same time doesn’t give him the dread that follows him every day from the moment he wakes up?

‘...The bay. I want to go to the bay.’

Sylvain nods after a while. ‘Alright, then.’

It doesn’t take that long to take off their shoes and suits and put on comfortable and warm clothes, Felix donning his favorite sweatshirt, blue with black cats on it, and then a jacket and a scarf over that. The intricate bun and braids on his hair, courtesy of Annette, come undone as Felix’s fingers run through the midnight blue hair, and a simple ponytail takes their place. Sylvain watches, adjusting the leather jacket he hasn’t used in a long time, and grabbing the keys for the house and their car from his own nightstand.

He’d put on some gloves, but he wants to look at his wedding ring for just a little longer.

They stand on the elevator in silence, hands linked so tightly Felix’s knuckles are turning white, and he hesitates before letting go of Sylvain to get in the car by his side. The key turns, and the car groans, and Felix slides the seat belt over himself. The gasoline tank is filled enough for a trip like this. The compartment is full of sweets and plasters. It takes a couple tries for Sylvain’s seat belt to fit. Felix drinks from all these details, hoping that at least one of them will remain as a vague memory, despite knowing they won’t and that it’s not like him to have useless hopes like that.

‘So, the bay.’ Sylvain presses the pedal with his foot, and the car starts moving. 

‘Yes, the bay.’ Felix straightens his back, sighing. ‘Don’t ask why.’

Sylvain shakes his head, never taking his eyes off the road once they get there. ‘I won’t.’

Felix’s hand rests on Sylvain’s thigh while Sylvain’s turns on the radio to a channel of  _ nostalgic hits _ , and then it proceeds to rest on Felix’s hand until it’s needed at the wheel again. The way to the bay isn’t that long, not by car, and Felix uses it to look out of the window at the moonless night and the people going back home from their jobs or extracurricular activities. The spring air is settling in, making everything warmer, but the sea breeze and the smell of salt still make Felix shiver without his jacket.

They arrive at the bay, where the sound of the waves breaking against the shore mixes with the music from the different nightclubs positioned close to or on the sand. Sylvain finds a miraculous spot to park on after a while and stops the radio, and before they get out of the car, he pulls at Felix’s arm and kisses him.

‘I,’ their foreheads touch, and their eyelids drop before another kiss takes place. ‘I love you.’

It’s still hard to say those words, but what does it matter? He won’t remember saying them tomorrow, despite the current embarrassment he would feel. ‘...I…’

Sylvain interrupts him, to leave a kiss on his forehead. ‘You don’t have to say it, Fe. Let’s go.’

Felix frowns, but grabs his jacket and gets out of the car, closing the door behind him. ‘What does that mean?’

‘What?’ He looks genuinely confused when he looks back at Felix. 

‘We got married today. I’m trying to- to-’ Felix gestures aimlessly, and finally decides to massage his temples. ‘To make things fucking memorable for at least one of us.’

‘Fe…’ Sylvain sighs, walking closer, and holds Felix’s hands on his own, stroking the wedding ring on his finger. ‘Sorry. I didn’t… mean it in that way. It’s always been hard for you to say it, you know, before and after the accident. I don’t want you to force it.’

‘I will force it if I fucking want to.’ He pulls away from Sylvain, sighing when his husband’s expression turns into that of a kicked puppy. ‘Unless you’re already tired of me. Because you could have- said something about it before.’

‘Felix.’

His voice sounds heavy, exhausted, and Felix knows he’s probably said this before, that it’s been a happy but tiring day, that he is the one ruining everything. That ever since the accident, he’s always been the one ruining this relationship, and Sylvain the one putting it back together, for reasons Felix can’t understand.

Sylvain sighs, and puts his hands in his pockets. ‘Let’s go stroll on the bay. And then we will go back home.’

Felix looks at his own feet, closing his eyes and breathing in the salty air, letting his shoulders drop. Sylvain isn’t at fault for his anger, even if he’s willing to be Felix’s punching bag. But that’s not how things should be, that’s not something someone deserves.

And so he exhales and gets closer. Sylvain’s hand finds Felix’s, and their fingers intertwine, a tight hold on each other as they start walking on the promenade, under the light of the lampposts. 

‘I thought about it,’ Sylvain’s low voice slides into the silence, feeling as natural as the sound of the waves. ‘I thought a lot, after… Well, you had that accident. I thought that maybe I wouldn’t be capable of making you properly happy. I mean, we both know I’m a mess of a guy,’ he laughs bitterly, and squeezes Felix’s hand, as if scared that he will run away as soon as he continues. ‘So maybe you’d be better off with someone else. I apparently can’t stop messing up and saying and doing the things I shouldn’t do, but I think I can get better at… Not screwing up, I guess. If you give me time and some patience.’

Sylvain never looks into the eyes of the person he’s opening himself up to, and that doesn’t change now, but Felix more than anyone else understands just how difficult it is to be sincere. ‘It’s not about… you. It’s not about you, you absolute idiot, it’s- about  _ me _ . About…’

He’s looking at Felix, and he already looks frustrated, because Felix has probably said this before, and he just can’t remember, and that’s why, that is why they’re having this stupid conversation.

‘I am- a nuisance-’

Sylvain’s hands immediately grab Felix’s shoulders, and this time, he really is looking at him. ‘Felix, look up.’

‘You’re- Putting your own life on hold just because I-’

‘Don’t say nonsense,’ he groans, rubbing Felix’s arms. ‘We’re both still alive, right? Still going on with our lives. We still got married, we’re still going on a honeymoon, we’re still paying that apartment. Nothing is staying on hold for you.’

‘You know damn well I’m not talking about that. You’re not stupid. I’m not stupid either. There are things we wanted to do that aren’t possible anymore.’

Sylvain shrugs, and his hands go down Felix’s arms, wrapping his husband’s hands with his own. ‘Yeah, and? That’s fine.’

‘It’s not fine, you wanted to-’

‘If we can’t have kids, we can have cats and dogs, hm?’ He strokes Felix’s hair, pushing a stray strand behind his ear. ‘We will find ways to travel properly. We will find a job you can do. I’ll always be by your side, so you will never forget you’re Felix Hugo Gautier-’

‘Like hell I’d take your surname,’ Felix interrupts, groaning. ‘You took mine.’

‘See?’ Sylvain laughs shortly, and his hand cups the back of Felix’s neck, pushing him closer until their foreheads touch. ‘I, Sylvain José Fraldarius, love you, and always will, Felix Hugo Fraldarius. With all my heart and soul...’

‘You don’t have to renew our vows the day we made them, dumbass.’

‘I will renew them every day if you want me to,’ he leaves a quick kiss on Felix’s lips, followed by the goofiest of smiles, the grin of someone staring at their source of happiness. ‘We’re together in this, Fe.’

Felix nods, and his hands hold Sylvain’s face. His cheeks are warm against Felix’s naturally cold hands, despite the remnants of winter in the night air. 

‘Together.’

**Author's Note:**

> Alarm state has been declared in my country thanks to coronavirus, which isn't anxiety inducing at all. But it's fine! I'll be ok, I hope. At least I have a lot of time to write fanfiction.
> 
> "La revedere" is Romanian for "Goodbye", and it translates (very roughly) to "Until we meet again".


End file.
